


Winter's Turning

by Leviafan



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Bonding, Female Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4049581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviafan/pseuds/Leviafan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl's day out in which it is Favourite's birthday and she begins to soften towards Fantine, if only a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's Turning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bobbiewickham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham/gifts).



> Apologies in advance for any mistakes regarding fashion. I knew it was a dangerous route to take, yet down I went it anyway.

There are friends made more by circumstance than by choice. In war men are thrown together and the bond that forms between them is as fast and as mysterious as that holding molecules in place. A species of this also exists when an already-formed troupe of friends each takes himself a lover. However, even as there is no jealousy, a kiss no more transgression than a laugh in these idle romances, neither is there any deep amity. They are friends because their men are friends. Someday if the men part ways with them or with each other, their friendship would dissipate.

For now it had all the appearances of verity. They even sometimes spent time with each other while the men were elsewhere. On this particular day Favourite, the eldest, had used this to elicit agreement from the youngest, that, and the fact of her birthday. She had received money from the others (less from her friend Blachevelle than she would have liked). With it she proposed to buy out the boutiques and the bakeries. She had settled on Fantine, the gold-haired one whose air she otherwise did not like, because Zéphine and Dahlia had contrived other plans together. She had pouted very prettily before surrendering and recruiting Fantine instead.

“We shall find some merriment without them,” she assured with stubborn confidence. “We are after all in Paris. There must be something to make us happy.”

They meandered down streets, taking no note which ones. Likely shops called out to them beckoning with glittering displays. Their voices were louder to Favourite from an economic standpoint. She was the one with the money to take it from dream to reality. Meanwhile it was their novelty that appealed to Fantine. She paused at the window of one and seeing her reflection in the glass, thought of how fetching the dress behind it was.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” Her tone spoke of an impersonal boredom, not quite malicious. It was not Fantine she was dissatisfied with, not then; she just had the privilege to bear the brunt. “We can go in if you want.”

A faint blush touched her cheeks even as her hand brushed musingly against her lips. “It’s your birthday...”

“And when it’s yours I can lead you by the nose in return. Besides, I like that parasol, I think I will bring it home and perhaps show that Blachevelle a delight he doesn’t deserve. And you can treat your Tholomyès, who has earned it.”

She took Fantine imperiously by the arm but the girl paused. “What is it?” A flash of real impatience, softened infinitesimally by the words that followed, opposite a dreamy melancholy.

“I don’t know when it is.”

Favourite turned halfway, her eyebrows raised. “What in heaven’s name do you mean, girl?” She pronounced this last word with condescension but out of ignorant cruelty. She had taken on airs in England, and grown haughty with age. A difference of five years in youth can be a century.

“I don’t know when I was born. I had neither mother nor father—”

“Of course you must have had them,” she interrupted, but it was a gentler hand she laid on Fantine’s arm. “Come into the shop, we’ll pick out something pretty together.”

Fantine obeyed, noting a change as if by instinct more than by sight. She slipped through the door on the older girl’s heels, eyes roaming across the shop with interest. They had chosen well. The place was of a quality that on most days they could not afford by themselves; how lucky that they had help today!

Meanwhile Favourite picked up the parasol that had been perhaps more than just an excuse, and the prior subject. “So you’re an orphan. Sometimes I think I should prefer it. My mother never says a kind word about me, and I am glad to see my father only occasionally. I have told you about him, haven’t I? Oh, he is worse than a Prussian! No, my dear, you are much better without them. Still, they should at least have told you the day you were so rudely brought into this world. It’s the decent thing.”

This confused Fantine, but she took it as she had taken everything in life. Everything except her first love, which she seized with both hands. “I was born in Montreuil-sur-Mer,” she said, as if to explain. “Up in the north. Everyone raised me.”

Mention of the provincial brought a wrinkle to Favourite’s dainty nose but a gleam of understanding to her eye. “Well, that explains it.” She hardly seemed to be speaking to Fantine. “And how did you get all the way to Paris? Did you waft here on the wind?”

“A few years ago I came because I heard there was always work.”

“Pah, work! How tedious. It is necessary to live, and to buy baubles such as these. but otherwise I could do without it.” She set the parasol down again with a dismissive wave. From her expression it could be at the idea of toil or at the object. “And you have been with Tholomyès all this time?”

“No,” Fantine answered absently. She was busy examining the dress that had first caught her eye. It was high-waisted and low-necked as was fashionable, made of delicate muslin embroidered with little dancing flowers along the hem. It was displayed with a modest ruff, a shawl, and a pretty little bonnet. Favourite glanced over and saw this bonnet.

“Oh, how dull that looks! I will buy it when I am ready to be married. Even then I shouldn’t feel safe in wearing it. He might run away.” Fantine said nothing, as she had liked it, and the girl continued. “Well, what of the others then?” She received a blank look. “You have taken other paramours before him, haven’t you?” A shake of her head elicited a laugh. “You are a funny little thing, Fantine. Now what do you think of this?” She had put on a feather-strewn hat and was posing as if for a portrait.

“It is lovely,” she answered. She would have lied diplomatically, but it was unnecessary. Favourite was pretty on her own, and with such highlights, even more so.

The older girl paused in her self-consideration and instead contemplated Fantine. “Do you like that dress? Never mind, I can see that you do. How much of it can you afford? Half, I hope? More? I will make up the difference. But don’t say anything about it to that brute Blachevelle, I am forever trying to get him to spend money on me and it’s like wringing water from a stone.”

Fantine looked up, surprised. She hadn’t failed to notice the cold air she often received at her hands. It would be polite to refuse, but after another glance at the dress, she instead looked to her purse. There was enough to pay for all of it, as Tholomyès was both wealthy and profligate with his friends. She told Favourite that, but it was just waved away.

“Three-quarters then. It will please me to help.” And that was an end to the argument, if indeed it could be called that. Once they had made the arrangements for the transaction and Fantine’s measurements were taken, they strolled out of the shop with Favourite’s face shaded by her new hat. She looked immensely pleased with herself and took the younger girl’s arm charitably. “I must say it’s been an acceptable birthday so far. Then tonight we will dine with the others. That will be jolly...”

She continued to talk, and Fantine to listen. Perhaps it was the unusual warmth of the day, but something between them seemed less chill than before. So when Fantine timidly suggested a café as a stop along their route, Favourite replied with an emphatic “Yes, why not?” and gaily tripped inside. This time she treated the younger girl without hesitation.

A dress was one thing. A madeleine and a coffee seemed the least she could do, even if it was her birthday.


End file.
